Chapter Text
He didn’t know what had possessed him to drive here.
It came over him without warning, the slick dripping down his thighs and staining the seat beneath him. Pain blossomed through his belly, an aching need to be filled wracking against his bones. It had been years since he’d felt it. His meds had kept it from happening, kept his body from turning against him and giving into its own carnality. But now they had betrayed him, left his body to revert to what it was truly made to do. The hollow ache spreading deep through his bones, the dampness between his thighs, the oily slick bleeding through his clothes.
His fingers had tensed around the wheel, heart stopping in his chest as tears sprung up in his eyes. He wasn’t quite sure what brought them there, whether it be the memories that had always been associated with his heat, or the fear that came with it, or the pain. Oh, god, the pain. Wolf Trap was too far away, and he couldn’t drive like this, not with his mind in a frenzy and the ache that spread through his entire body growing stronger.
He went to the first person that he could think of. The only person that he could think of.
His jeans were ruined by the time he got to the door, and he felt a sudden pang of fear. Christ, anyone within a mile radius could smell him at this point. Could attract them. Could lure them here.
Fuck.
Trembling hands ran down his face, the sweat dripping down his palms as his chest began to heave. Weak and whimpering like some common bitch, he reached up and knocked against the heavy wooden door, pounding as hard as weak hands would allow. He needed to get away from the threat, needed to find safety within Hannibal’s walls, knowing that he was the only one who could provide for him.
It was fucking humiliating. What remained of Will’s conscious thought turned against himself, angry that he would allow for this to happen, pissed off that he would be reduced to this. Part of him wanted to scream, infuriated that he would allow himself to become this cowering, begging omega, despising the fact that he came seeking an alpha to…
He hated alphas. He had always hated alphas. Hannibal was the only one that he could stand to be around, the only one that didn’t make him want to lash out, or run, or hide.
Perhaps it was understandable, though. If anyone had a reason to hate alphas, it was him.
He had presented as an omega at the age of twelve, earlier than the majority of his peers. He had always figured that he’d present as an alpha, it being almost expected of him. His father was an alpha, his father’s father had been an alpha, and so on down the line. But fate had been cruel to him, and three days after his twelfth birthday, he’d went into his first heat.
It hadn’t been so bad at first. Far from pleasant, sure, but nothing so unmanageable. He’d spent the entire day locked in his room, masturbating when he wasn’t sleeping, sleeping when he wasn’t masturbating. It was uncomfortable, painful at times, but it had been okay, aside from some cruel remarks from his father. Nothing particularly out of the ordinary for him, anyway.
Then the old fool got smart. Ever opportunistic, he always found some way to exploit the situation to work to his own benefit. Two days into his first heat, Will’s father decided to bring over his uncle. The uncle who spent his weekends on their couch getting drunk with his father, an uncle who liked to peek in whenever Will was getting dressed.
That had been the first one. The next six years were spent with his father whoring him off to the highest bidder for one week every month, despite his protests and pleas and begs for him to stop.
It always hurt. It always hurt so damn much.
Heat became synonymous with tear-stained pillows and blood-soaked sheets. His thighs were always stained red for at least a week after, a red that hours beneath the showerhead couldn’t wash away entirely. Ingrained into his very flesh, settling deep within his pores, staining down to the bone. It became synonymous with misery and greasy old men and dread and pain. But that wasn’t the worst of it.
He had found out two weeks after his fourteenth birthday that he was pregnant.
His father beat him when he missed his heat. He was bruised and bloodied by the end of it, and Will later figured that he had made some attempt at inducing a miscarriage. But the little cluster of cells growing within his womb had been a fighter, refusing to die until…
Will had begged for his father to let him keep it, if for no other reason than the fact that it would provide some protection from his father’s friends for the next nine months. No more heats, no more dirty alphas coming into his room at all hours of the day to fuck him and knot him until they had had their fill. Even if not for the sake of his protection, there was another life growing inside of him, and how could he just kill it?
His pleas had fallen on deaf ears. A pregnancy would mean that his father would have to go through nine months without the cash from his friends. A pregnancy would end in just another mouth to feed. A pregnancy would mean that his secret would be out. The old man waited months before finally taking him to the abortion clinic, too lazy to get up and drag him there. Eighteen weeks, he waited, eighteen weeks. He waited until Will’s belly was already beginning to swell, waited until Will could feel it kicking and moving around inside of him, before forcing him to get rid of it.
And things were business as usual after that. He started going into heat again, and his dad started inviting his friends over again, and life went on like that for four more years, until Will turned eighteen and he escaped to Wolf Trap. He immediately started on heat suppressants, refused to go through his heat any longer, and he’d moved on. He lived life to the best of his ability, but the anxiety never really went away around alphas.
Not with Hannibal, though. He’d never been afraid of Hannibal.
The memories hit him like a tidal wave as he stood on Hannibal’s doorstep, shifting uncomfortably as more slick pulsed from him. He hadn’t felt that familiar gush of slick between his thighs, dripping down his legs, since he was eighteen.
The door flew open to reveal Hannibal Lecter, dressed in nothing but a red sweater and a robe. Eyes blew wide at the very sight of the omega, quickly ushering him inside, shutting the door behind him without question or preamble. Will shuffled inside, tears staining his cheeks and sweat dripping from every pore. He could hardly breathe, and everything inside of him burned, and he needed…
He hadn't taken a knot in years. He'd been with betas before, even an omega or two, but he never went anywhere near alphas. But now…
“I don't know what happened. I was fine, I was fine, and suddenly there was slick everywhere and everything hurts and I can't breathe, fuck, I can’t breathe,” he cried, voice shaking, not caring for preamble and ‘how do you do’s. There was one dominating train of thought, above all else and all other. He needed his alpha.
His alpha. He'd never said that before.
He supposed that he'd known it since the beginning, but hadn't wanted to admit it. They talked about soul mates, how you just knew when you saw them. It hadn't quite been like that. Will had been uninterested at first, too blinded by his own annoyance with some attempted psychoanalysis to see him as anything other than just another fucking alpha.
But he grew to know it, no matter how much of him wanted to deny it. It had happened slowly, gathered moments solidifying some bond between them. When they were laughing over breakfast. When Hannibal drew his eyes away from Garrett Jacob Hobbs, calling him back to earth. When their eyes met as his hand clasped over Abigail’s throat, holding the world with it, allowing time to slow for just a moment. Hannibal had always held some grasp on him. There was something to draw them together, some conjoinment, some bond.
“I don't know what's happening,” Will breathed.
“Well I hardly figured that it was something that could be easily mistaken,” Hannibal said. “You seem to be in heat.”
Will let out a shuddered breath at the word. He hated that word.
But there was something in the way it came from Hannibal’s lips that drew away the fear, assurance that it wasn’t so bad as it seemed. Like nothing bad would happen to him, like no one was going to hurt him, like he could be vulnerable without being taken advantage of. Like heat was something that was normal, okay, safe. Welcome, even.
“It’s not possible,” he sobbed, trembling. He had always been careful, taking every precaution to assure that this couldn’t happen. He’d bought the most powerful suppressants on the market, had swallowed pills every day for years and years now. “I'm on suppressants,” was all that he could sputter out through his tears.
“Immunities can be built up. This is not the first time something like this has happened,” Hannibal explained, voice steady and calm in some attempt to bring him down from his panic. “Breathe, mylimasis. Your body is only doing what it is built to do.”
Will was trembling, the scent of fever and sex rolling off of him. It was overwhelming, overpowering, enough to smother and suffocate. Hannibal could have drowned in it and have died a happy man.
Call it intuition, call it a sense, but Hannibal had known the day he’d met him that the man who stood before him was destined to be his mate. Divine intervention, pulled together by the gods themselves, even if Will hadn’t known it without a little push.
Manipulations had come into play, of course. He had wanted to see what might happen, perhaps cruel and morbid curiosity getting the better of him. He had needed to know if Will felt it too, if he wanted it as badly as he did, and he did, so it seemed. Nothing had taken the omega straight into his open arms but his own free will. Will had wanted this just as much as he did. Will Graham loved him. Terrified as he was, Will Graham loved him.
“I can't…” Will whimpered.
Terrified, cold, the man who Hannibal had revered as a god among men cowering and pitiful before him. For just a moment, the doctor almost felt something akin to guilt. He knew the story, and the things that Will had come to associate his heat with, but Hannibal was determined to rewrite his history. He had made the choice to start a problem to solve it, like the arsonist firefighter, lighting the world ablaze just to play the hero.
“Hush, dear boy. You're going to be okay. This is natural. This is what your body was built to do. This is what you were designed for,” Hannibal assured softly.
Fingers met damp curls, slowly pushing them back as the electricity ignited within his fingers, the mere brush of fingertips going straight to his cock. His rut was setting in, slowly eating away at his rationality, but he kept himself steady. Demand and control were not what he sought after tonight. Hannibal would show him all the reverence of a deity, bowing down to the only god that he had ever cared to worship.
“I can’t do it. I can’t do it. I’ve never been through heat by myself, I can’t do it, I can’t do it. I don’t… I can’t do it, Hannibal. I don’t want to do this, I don’t want to go through this, please, I don’t… I can’t...” Will sobbed, his voice wracked and body trembling as he struggled to keep himself upright. He wanted to collapse, let the world implode on him, crush him beneath its weight rather than let his heat take him under.
“Hush, Will… Breathe, my love,” Hannibal whispered. He reached down slowly, taking Will’s hand in his own, holding him tightly, offering him an anchor, a stronghold as he held tight. “Would you allow for me to service you through your heat? You are free to decline, I will force nothing upon you, but I would help you if you asked.”
Will gulped down hard, hands shaking at his eyes met the alpha’s. He wore a look of compassion, of love, of utter reverence. A look unmistakable as anything less, a gaze that wrote stories and sonnets of his love. Hannibal Lecter was in love with him.
Maybe he had been for awhile.
And maybe Will could find the same feelings within himself. Love and reverence and longing. A longing that led him to his doorstep, past the threshold and into his arms. Maybe Will was in love with him too. Irrevocably, desperately, hopelessly in love with him.
Will bit down hard on his lip as another pulse of slick gushed from his hole, dripping down his legs. Pleading eyes stared down on him, as if prayers were being uttered to every deity that may or may not have existed at any point in human history. Prayers begging for a yes, prayers begging to the touch of a lover, prayers begging to be granted entrance into the sacred temple where he would fall to his knees and worship his gods.
“Would you have me? Would you want me?” Hannibal breathed.
“Yes.”
Tears of joy could have sprung like fountains to his eyes, but he settled upon a smile and a nod. He reached down and took Will’s hands in his own. Warm hands, callused and damp with sweat, cradled gently in his own. Gently, as not to shatter what composure remained, he led the omega toward the bedroom.
He felt Will’s tensions rise the moment the younger man laid eyes on the bed. He felt his entire body tense, closing off to him as his anxieties rose, skyrocketing. Slowly, Hannibal inched closer, offering every opportunity to pull away, to say no, to change his mind. But there was no denial, no rejection as Hannibal’s lips pressed softly against Will’s, just enough to soothe his frazzled mind.
His lips tasted sweeter than what Will had imagined. He had always imagined his kiss being bittersweet, like wine and blood, but there instead lay something sweeter than that. Will noted that his scent had changed, too, as he devolved into his rut just from being near the omega. He could remember that alphas in rut usually had a musky scent, sharp and dirty, damn near offensive. But Hannibal was different, sweeter, warmer - of course he was. Bastard was always different from other alphas.
“You're okay. You're safe,” Hannibal assured softly, fingers pushing through dark curls before laying his hand to rest on the side of his neck, just over his mating gland.
“I'm in heat,” Will murmured, speaking it like a death sentence.
Will had only spoken of the sexual abuse that he had suffered in his childhood once, nearly in passing. Such traumas had left him scarred, equating heat with acts of torture, equating the natural inclinations of his biology to rape.
Consider it an unorthodox form of therapy. Perhaps this was the only way that Will could learn to heal. To be taken care of, to be shown the inclinations of his biology in a more beautiful light. The act of two surrendering to their own primal urges, coming together to create life between them, abandoning any and all social graces for the sake of coming together as one… It was all that Hannibal had ever wanted for him.
“Breathe, mylimasis. I am not like the men who hurt you,” Hannibal said, voice just above a whisper, wrapping his arms tight around the omega's waist. Hannibal clung to him, cradling him tightly in his arms, until all resistance left his bones, before gently guiding him onto the bed, laying him down on satin sheets.
Hannibal undressed him slowly, slipping his shoes off first. Hannibal touched him like his fingertips were grazing the skin a god, with all reverence and worship. His jeans came off next, a whine torn from the omega’s throat as he did so. The ache inside of him grew more insistent as the cool air hit his slick-soaked legs, a sharp throb shooting through his cock. Hannibal took notice of his discomfort and did away with the foreplay and worship, instead opting to free him of the constraints of his clothes.
Vulnerability was not something that Will allowed himself to feel, and yet here he was. Sprawled on his back, laid out for the alpha to gaze down upon with hungry eyes, waiting to be fucked and filled and knotted and bred. The last time he had been laid out like this…
He was terrified. Terrified of what his body was forcing him through, terrified of the memories that it brought back. His mind seized, attempting to crawl back down familiar pathways of dissociation to escape from the pain. His body was designed to go into heat, but his mind couldn’t handle it. But it didn't matter. It didn’t matter what he wanted. It didn’t matter that there was a surge of panic coursing through him. His instinct was telling him to fuck. His instinct was telling him to breed. And before long, his instinct was going to win.
“I… I can't…” Will whimpered.
“Shh, mylimasis. Let me take care of you,” Hannibal said, straddling the omega’s legs and leaning down to claim his lips.
Slowly, the alpha let his fingers drift down his chest, gently taking the hardened nub between his fingers and massaging lightly in an attempt to bring him pleasure. The men who hurt him had never cared about his pleasure. Their motivations were selfish, hungry, vile. His pleasure had never been of importance. He had been used as nothing more than a hole to fuck, nothing but a piece of meat for starving men. They would have never taken care of him in the way that he deserved to be taken care of.
Will let out a small whine, bucking up against his touch. He would have never thought that the very brush of his fingers over his erect nipples would be enough to send spikes of want and longing through him, but there he was, whining and pleading beneath his alpha. He felt something between fear and excitement and arousal and want and need and terror, a mess of emotions that Will didn’t care to place. The only things that he knew in that moment were that he was in love with Hannibal Lecter, and that he was terrified of him.
He had never been afraid of Hannibal, not once. There had always been an ease between them, an understanding, something calming about his presence. But now, thoughts intruding and slamming against his cranium, drowning and smothering him… Fear gripped him tight, and he couldn't help but expect the pain that had always come with heat. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't breathe.
“Will,” Hannibal murmured. He moved away from his nipple, rather opting to run fingers through his curls in an attempt to soothe his tremors, stop the pain, force out all of those terrors that still gripped him. He was afraid of losing control again. He was afraid of losing himself, afraid of being hurt again, afraid that all of the people who had hurt him would come back to take advantage of him again. But, as Hannibal claimed his lips again, vows were made in silence. Hannibal would never let the bad men touch him again; not even within the realm of his overactive imagination.
Will melted into Hannibal’s kiss. The taste of his lips, the flick of his tongue, the feeling of his breath intertwined with the omega’s… It reminded him of who he was with. His heat wasn't paramount when their lips met, and he almost forgot about the hollow ache in his belly when Hannibal’s lips met his. He was gentle. Kind. None of his abusers had ever done that.
“It's going to be alright,” Hannibal whispered, pressing his forehead against the omega’s. “We won't do anything that you don't want to. The situation is yours to control. What do you want from me? I will do my best to provide it.”
Will couldn't think, couldn't speak in coherent sentences as his heat grew more insistent, pulling him deeper and deeper beneath the waves as his own carnality took him under. He couldn't think about anything else. He just needed sex, even if it hurt him. He had felt the same way as a child. He had hated every second of it, left terrified and trembling beneath dirty sheets in the aftermath each time, scarred and damaged a little more each time. But that hadn't shut up his pleading cries as he begged for a knot, needing it no matter how much he didn't want it.
“Knot,” Will breathed, voice shaking as his trembling hands wrapped around the sides of Hannibal’s neck. He felt dirty for wanting it, felt weak for needing it. “I want your knot.”
He was normally more eloquent. But he felt his heat taking over as he began to lose any thought other than need to fuck, need to breed, need a knot.
Hannibal smiled softly. He pressed his lips against the side of his omega’s neck. He wanted little more than to mark him then and there, claim him as his own, but he decided that Will deserved better than that. He would mate with him when they were both ready. When Will wanted him. When Will asked him. He wanted Will to come to him himself.
And the day would come, undoubtedly, when Will would long to bond with him. Perhaps not tonight, but one day. Hearing those words from Will’s lips were all of the affirmation that he needed. Will wanted him. In the haze of heat, he had come here, had come to him, begging to be knotted and bred by him. And under the haze of his own coming rut, Hannibal couldn't help but grow harder at the thought of it, knot beginning to swell between his legs. He wasn't going to last long.
“Let me take care of you, mylimasis,” Hannibal breathed like a vow.
Slowly, gingerly, he slipped two fingers between his legs, probing gently at his rim until Will let out a quiet moan, a plead for more. He pushed, feeling the tight ring of muscle give way beneath his touch. He was tight after all of these years, but the slick was more than enough to make the breach painless. He was dripping wet, slick coating his thighs, drenching Hannibal’s palm, leaving a dark patch in the sheets beneath him. Hannibal hardly minded though, fingers pumping in and out of him slowly, scissoring him open, grazing over his prostate with each movement, drawing small moans from his lips.
“Such a good omega,” Hannibal murmured. “My good omega.”
Will let out a small whine, rocking on his fingers. His attackers had never bothered with gentleness. They were always rough with him, slamming into him with no preparation, leaving him in a mess of come and slick and blood afterward. But Hannibal was gentle, preparing him for their consummation, for their bonding. Will grasped at the sheets, rocking against him. It felt good. God, it felt good.
“Alpha…” Will pleaded.
Hannibal pressed in a third finger, spreading him wide, opening him enough to fit his length, to accommodate his knot. Will’s moans became constant, voice trembling with his pleasure as he rocked down on his fingers. The fear was forgotten, smothered beneath the pleasure offered.
The fear that had risen up in Will was calmed by the pumping of his fingers, the rhythmic glide of slick-soaked digits brushing up against his prostate. His heat began to wear at the sharp edges of his mind, dulling the parts that cut to something softer. Hannibal watched as he fell back into the sheets, moaning as he rocked in time with the thrusting of Hannibal’s fingers, pushing back against him, hole hungry to devour whatever was being offered.
Still, this could only last for so long.
Hannibal’s fingers slipped from between his legs, rather opting to graze over his thighs, smearing the slick down his flesh. Trembling thighs, entirety of him shaking with the loss of contact, the cold air brushing against his exposed hole. Unpleasant and hollow and needing to be filled.
Hannibal slowly rose to his knees before leaning over top of his omega, glancing down between them as he took his cock in one hand, giving himself a few cursory pumps, foreskin sliding over the glistening head of his cock. He had once taken some narcissistic sense of pride in the length of his cock, but feeling Will whimpering beneath him, he almost wished himself to be smaller. The sight would be intimidating, especially for an omega having gone so long without taking a proper knot. He prioritized Will’s comfort above all else, wanted to take away the fear, but there was nothing more to be done.
Will’s eyes found his cock, and there was something mesmerizing and terrifying about it. He was mesmerized by the movement of his hands, the glide of his foreskin. In equal parts, he found himself seizing up again, the familiar tightening in his chest threatening to strangle him.
Hannibal lined himself up with the omega’s leaking hole, feeling the slick pulse against his cockhead in response to the graze of his touch, but it was nothing more than biological instinct. It wasn’t Will. It wasn’t his desire or need driving him to it.
Will let out a shaking whimper, the pang of fear spreading through him. He hadn’t felt this sensation since he was a child, since some stranger had pinned him down to fuck him, to take his pleasure and leave. The feeling of a slick, wet cockhead pressing against his weeping rim took him back to his childhood bedroom. A hole punched into the wall above his bed covered sloppily by a Pink Floyd poster, sheets still reeking of old men, red stains bleeding through the sheets and staining the mattress…
No.
He forced his eyes upward. He could feel the tears stinging in them as he forced his eyes past Hannibal, up toward the ceiling as his fingers grasped at the sheets beneath him. Satin, not flannel. There was no water damage to this roof. The graze of his fingers didn’t send jolts of pain coursing through his very bones. There were no bruises forced into his skin, yellowing and staining in the weeks following his heat.
“Mylimasis,” Hannibal breathed, sensing his omega’s fear. The haze of his heat wasn’t enough to block out the trauma, wasn’t enough to stop the memories. “We can stop.”
“No,” Will barked out, voice harsh and demanding. “Just do it. Just get it over with.”
His determination to get through it didn’t strangle the terrified whimper that escaped his throat, eyes clamped shut as the alpha pushed his cockhead past his sphincter. He moved slowly, struggling to keep his omega calm, but each time he pressed in further, it earned a shudder from Will, each accompanied by a sharp whine.
Hannibal stilled within him, the act requiring some great amounts of strength. He paused, raising both hands, lingering pressed just past the omega’s sphincter. He held himself still with trembling thighs, coaxing Will to take his hands in his own. “Hold my hands, Will,” Hannibal whispered.
The omega obeyed without question, reaching up and lacing his fingers through the alpha’s. He let out a shuddered breath as he clung tight to Hannibal’s hands, eyes clenched shut tightly, heart slamming in his chest. His basic instinct told him to take his alpha’s knot, to slam deep into him, mate and breed him, but the whimpering little boy inside of him still feared alphas. Even his alpha.
“You’re in control. Squeeze my hands. Tighten when you want me to push in, loosen when you want me to pull out. Let go of one hand if you want me to take control, let go of both and we’ll stop. Do you understand?” Hannibal explained.
Will gulped down hard and nodded. If not for his own fear and the haze of his heat clouding his mind, he would have been more grateful, but for now he couldn’t acknowledge the generosity and compassion, only registering his own need and his own fear.
Closing his eyes, the omega pressed his head back against the pillows, adjusting to the feeling of fullness. The tip of Hannibal’s cock was hardly inside, and he already felt full to bursting. And yet, it wasn’t nearly enough to satisfy and satiate. He needed more, needed his alpha’s knot, needed him to fill the hollow ache that filled him now. He exhaled slowly before squeezing the alpha’s hands hard.
Hannibal pushed in slowly, the omega’s twitching hole accommodating to his length. Will let out a small sound beneath him, though it was no longer the terrified whimper of a man who had seen too much, felt too much, been through too much. It was rather a small sound of pleasure the alpha’s cock brushed up against his prostate. He was enjoying this.
The alpha sunk into the hilt as the omega let out a sigh, his hands remaining squeezed tight against Hannibal’s. Hannibal ran his thumb over Will’s, gentle with him. Small gestures of love, of affection, making certain that Will Graham knew that he was adored.
“Feels good, Han,” Will breathed, eyes rolled back, head pressed against the pillows, chest heaving as he adjusted to the feeling of fullness.
“Perfect, mylimasis. Perfect. Like you were made for this,” Hannibal whispered. “Made for me.”
Will sighed. He felt a warm feeling wash over him as he squeezed tight around him, shifting as he accustomed himself to the length and girth. He was big, cock heavy and fat inside of him, taking some adjusting before he got used to the feeling of it inside of him. His shifting earned him a soft groan from his alpha, the squeezing and contracting around his cock leaving him breathless. His face contorted into one of pleasure, eyes squeezed shut as Will settled down on his cock. The sight above him made him want it more, the sight something purely exquisite, and fucking pornographic.
It took him a moment to settle on a position, another moment to adjust before he slowly began to loosen his grip, and Hannibal followed suit, slowly unsheathing himself from the omega’s leaking hole. Will let out a moan as the alpha’s cock brushed against his prostate again, savoring the slow drag of his cock moving inside of him.
Will paused once the tip of his cock was all that remained sheathed inside of him, and slowly began to squeeze again. Each brush of his prostate was calculated, hips aimed and pointed as hands and hips began to work at a complimentary pace, Hannibal’s hips beginning to thrust.
It was against his nature to be so gentle. Alpha instinct dictated something rougher, something desperate. It would dictate that he pound into him at a fervent pace, with intentions of mating and breeding his omega. It would dictate that he knot quickly, and often, over and over, ensuring insemination and conception within his womb. It demanded animalistic fucking, barely recognizable as human.
But he had always been a man of great self-control, and that was what he would maintain. He kept in time with the pace of Will’s hands as he began to slowly thrust into him, setting an easy pace, allowing the omega to adjust to the sensation. Years upon years of denial of his true instinct and biology had left him needing time to relearn the way his body was meant to function. His body was readjusting to the sensation of heat and the presence of a cock between his legs, the entirety of the experience a bit uncomfortable, but Hannibal would be patient.
Patience allowed him to savor the feeling. The sight beneath him could have brought him to tears as the fear and distrust faded away into bliss, devolving into a more natural state. The bond between them took form, solidifying within his chest as he made love to his omega. The bond they shared was no longer simply intellectual, or emotional, or spiritual. It was physical. It was sexual. It was complete.
“Aš tave myliu, mylimasis,” Hannibal murmured, leaning over the omega and claiming his mouth, pressing his hands back against the bed, still moving in time with the rhythmic clench and unclench of his fingers as they began to pick up speed.
Will melted into his kiss, smiling against his alpha’s lips. The fear that had taken him was gone now, like nothing had ever happened. As if no one had ever touched him, as if no one had ever violated him, as if no one had ever taken away his innocence.
Of course, he didn’t fool himself into thinking that a good fuck would take away the nightmares, but it was a step.
He had never thought that he would find some true mate, some soulmate, some alpha that he was destined to be with. But he supposed that he’d always known it. He was in love with Hannibal Lecter, and had been from the day that he met him. And finally, finally, they found consummation.
Will felt the hollow ache begin to deepen in him, and he was no longer so afraid of it. It felt natural, like this was what he was built to do, like this was what his body was made for. His body was made to go into heat, to live from heat to heat and rut to rut, to make love to his alpha over and over, to be knotted over and over, to be bred over and over. This was what he was made for. This was what he was supposed to do.
Will let one hand slip from beneath Hannibal’s, letting the alpha take full reign, letting him take what he needed. They both needed more than this. The omega reached up, curling his fingers around the side of his alpha’s neck and deepening their kiss as he wrapped his legs tight around his waist. He wanted this. He needed this.
“Knot me. Breed me,” Will begged, voice coming out somewhat pathetic, somewhat desperate for what was bound to come next. “Please, alpha.”
Something carnal overtook him, something utterly primal overpowering him as his hips picked up speed, slamming deep into Will. The omega’s moans rang out from beneath him, begging for more, begging to be filled and bred like a proper omega.
Hannibal would always treat him with all the reverence of a god, bowing down to worship him whenever he asked. He was anything but a common breeding bitch, begging to be fucked and filled at any given opportunity. But under the guise of heat and rut, Hannibal swore that he could turn him into one. Made to be fucked and filled, made to carry his children over and over again.
“Such a good boy, Will,” Hannibal huffed. “Going to fill you with my seed. Going to make your belly swell with my pups. Blossom with my litter. Everyone’s going to know who you belong to.”
He couldn’t help but become infatuated with the idea. The entire world seeing the proof of their love, the proof of their consummation, the life created within Will’s body. He wanted the tangible reminder of these nights. He wanted to create something beautiful within him, something beautiful between them. Oh, he wanted it.
“Mine,” Hannibal growled.
“Yours,” Will whimpered, holding tight to his alpha.
Will wanted it. He wanted to be bred, wanted to be tied to the alpha, wanted no one else. Hannibal Lecter made him want to be an omega. Hannibal Lecter made him want the bond that he had sworn off years ago. Hannibal Lecter made him want it.
Hannibal snaked a hand between them, wrapping his fingers around Will’s cock, stroking him quickly toward completion. He wanted to knot him to the feeling of his walls contracting around him, wanted to come with him. In part, it was more for Will’s sake than his own. Knotting for the first time tended to be painful, the stretch and burn of taking a swollen knot uncomfortable at best. But pain was far from what he wanted Will to experience. He wanted the omega to orgasm through his knotting, come while being bred. He wanted to take his pain and bring him into ecstasy, driving him to the point of pleasured agony.
Will bucked up against his touch, the slamming against his prostate mixed with the stroke of the alpha’s hand leaving him panting, damn near screaming. Each movement forced his voice louder, until he was crying out loud enough to wake the neighbors, enough to wake the whole damn country.
“I'm going to knot you, Will,” Hannibal said, pressing his lips against the omega’s ear. “It's going to hurt. But if you want me to breed you, you’re going to need to let me do it. I’m going to fill you with my pups. Is that what you want?”
The omega nodded hard. He wanted it. Oh, he wanted it. He wanted to be filled with the alpha’s pups, wanted his belly to swell with Hannibal Lecter’s litter. He wanted Hannibal to be proud of him for carrying his children, wanted to feel them kicking inside of him, wanted to be a good omega for his alpha. Will wanted to mate with him, he wanted to be owned, to belong to his alpha, and vice versa. He wanted this to last, wanted this to be their conjoinment. He wanted to spend the rest of his days with Hannibal Lecter.
Will let out a whine, bucking into his hand. He felt the tug beginning to sting at his rim as Hannibal’s knot, thickened and hard, began to enter his body. Will’s voice shook and his entire body trembled as the doctor pushed himself inside, the sudden shift in girth stinging at his rim. It hurt, but Hannibal’s hand stroking him quickly and his length brushed against his prostate, it was a symphony of pleasure and pain and Will could hardly breathe.
“Breed me, alpha, please, knot me, gonna come, need your knot,” Will babbled as the thickest part of the alpha’s knot pressed into him, pushing past his rim, the omega nearly screaming.
Will threw his head back in pleasure as his orgasm finally overtook him, his body contracting tight as Hannibal’s knot popped past his rim, the alpha’s orgasm following suit. The warmth of his alpha’s semen filling him left him rocking against his knot, wanting it deeper within him, the damp feeling milking his orgasm. Will’s seed splashed between them, leaving them sticky and wet, but he couldn’t find it within himself to care. He was knotted and sated and being bred like a proper omega… He had never felt quite so at ease.
Will let out a quiet purr as Hannibal’s arms curled tighter around him, pressing his lips just beneath the omega’s earlobe. He was content, any of the fear that had plagued him gone now as he pressed closer to his alpha, the feeling of warmth filling his womb for the first time since he was a child. And for the first time, instead of disgust, he felt at peace with it.
Perhaps he was not healed. Perhaps he was not whole. Perhaps the nightmares would forever plague him, until his dying days. But there were steps made, leaps and bounds toward recovery. Perhaps he could find peace in it, perhaps he could fall in love with this mess of theirs.
Hannibal smiled sleepily as he rocked deeper within the omega’s tight hole, pushing his seed deeper and deeper into his fertile body. Whether it be instinct and rut, or if he was simply curious to see what might happen, Hannibal Lecter was determined to breed him. He was determined to see Will Graham pregnant with his child. He wanted Will Graham to create something beautiful with him, wanted the omega to carry his child, and he was not going to stop until he did. And judging by the way that Will purred and moaned with each wave of the alpha’s orgasm, Will wanted the same.
“Such a good boy… Such a good omega…” Hannibal murmured. “Aš tave myliu, mylimasis… My omega.”